One Look At You

by Hartwell, Sofie

  “Go! Go now!” I whisper urgently. Mark looks at me like he wants to say more, but with a curt nod at Tony and then myself, he walks toward the elevators.

  “Olivia, a word.”

  I bite my lip and steel myself for what’s to come.

  Once inside his office, he closes the door and my pulse starts to race, beating at what I can only imagine is five hundred beats per minute. He moves very slowly towards me, never taking his eyes off my face. He wants to see me squirm.

  He takes off my glasses and puts them on his desk. He gazes at me for the longest time and I do my best not to flinch. Then his hands go to my hair, pulling off the pins and allowing it to fall down freely to my shoulders. I know I should object, but I’m so filled with fear that I do absolutely nothing to stop him.

  “I…” I want to end the silent torture, but I can’t think of anything to say.

  “You what?” He asks softly.

  I shake my head.

  “So, tell me, Olivia, where do we go from here?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I murmur. I’ll just tell you what you want to hear. “I’ll clear my desk first thing in the morning.” I am close to tears as I realize that I can’t work here anymore.

  “Taking the coward’s way out? I don’t think that’s your style,” he says with confidence.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” I say, unable to look at him.

  “And how do you figure?”

  “Please, I really don’t know what to say anymore.”

  “No one’s asking for your resignation, Livie,” he says my name like he wants to soften the blow.

  “But it’s expected, isn’t it? How can I possibly work here now?”

  “What happened at the party is personal. This is professional. I do hope you have the sense to make a distinction between the two.”

  “I’m sorry, but I would feel very uncomfortable working here with you. I’ve been in constant fear and uneasiness just waiting for you to put two and two together.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why?” I openly stare at him for being deliberately obtuse.

  He sighs and goes behind his desk. “Alright, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. But please don’t expect any references from this office. If you leave me in the lurch in the middle of a transition, I would have every right not to give you a letter of recommendation. Good luck finding a new job in that case,” he says brusquely.

  “That’s unfair! I’ve always been a good employee,” I argue with him.

  “Maybe before. But, as I said, if you leave now, you are effectively making it difficult for me to do my job,” he says firmly.

  “There are at least half a dozen assistants who can do my job,” I protest again.

  “Not the way I see fit.” He turns to his laptop and starts typing.

  “You can’t just do that,” I plead with him.

  “Think it over, Olivia. You can give me your decision tomorrow. Now, I have some work to do so, if you please…” Oh, he is so polite and proper, like he’s talking about my choice of coffee for breakfast. I grit my teeth and go to my desk to pack up for the night. I remember that I haven’t given him the revised report. Screw it! He can just have his damn report tomorrow.

  ***

  Mark stands up as I approach his table by the corner. But his gentlemanly manners don’t last very long as he bombards me with questions. “What was that about?”

  “What are you talking about?” I feign incomprehension since I don’t want to talk about what transpired at the office.

  “You practically pushed me out the door. And your boss was looking at me like I was a bug he wanted to squash under his shoe.”

  “You don’t know?” I ask, shocked that he really doesn’t know what happened.

  “Don’t know what? Are we playing twenty questions?” he asks, irritated with my lack of forthcomingness.

  “You honestly didn’t recognize my boss?” I ask.

  “Should I know him? Is he famous?”

  “Oh, my God, Mark! You’re a guy who sees every crack on the tile floor or chipping paint on the wall. Are you telling me you don’t remember him?”

  “What the hell, Livie? Just tell me!”

  “He’s the man I was dancing with at Joseph’s party. I woke up next to him the next morning, remember?”

  His eyes bulge and seems to be thoroughly perplexed by what I say. “I don’t get it. What’s going on? How is he your boss?”

  “Seriously? You need for me to connect the dots?”

  He says nothing but he is clearly shocked.

  “Mark, it’s what you’d call a twist of fate.”

  “I’m not following,” he says a bit impatiently.

  “Our CFO left and Tony Avery was his replacement. I know… what are the odds?” I ask rhetorically.

  “This city has a population of thirteen million and you end up with him as your boss?”

  “Yup. Mind-blowing!” After some time, I remonstrate with him. “You’re usually good with details. Didn’t you recognize him at all?”

  “Well, in my defense, I was pretty hammered at the party. Besides, what do I care what he looked like? But, wait! He didn’t know it was you all along?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve been putting up my hair and wearing glasses and hardly any make-up. I’ve also been dressing up very conservatively.”

  “But now the cat’s out of the bag because of me.”

  “Yes,” I say with a glare.

  “I’m sorry! How could I have known? I just wanted to surprise you.” He looks like a little boy feeling sorry for his antics.

  “It’s not your fault. As you say, how could you have known? Forget it! I brought it upon myself anyway.”

  “Are you gonna have a pity party?”

  “No. I just meant that, because I behaved like a slut, I deserve what’s coming to me.”

  “Liv, you were at a party. You got caught up in the moment.” He sighs out loudly. “Why do you have such a guilt complex?”

  “Mark, you’re not me. You don’t know what I feel. I remember very little about that night and I can’t help it if I feel like I’m responsible for whatever happened.”

  “He was there. It takes two.” At this point he tells the server we need a couple of minutes to decide.

  “Let’s not talk about this anymore. We’re never going to see eye-to-eye. Anyway, what happened to you? Jen was worried and Melanie was bummed out. What’s the big secret?”

  “Just felt like going away for a couple of weeks. I was in Mexico, checking out this newly-developed tract of land where the condos are selling like hotcakes. Then I met someone and stayed longer. End of story.”

  “I hear ya. But, why the secrecy?”

  “You don’t get it. I’m on call 24/7. My clients bug me even in the middle of the night. My parents are always breathing down my neck. I just want to be away and not have to talk to anyone. Period. So, I turned off the phone, the tablet, the laptop, and just chilled.”

  “No, I do get it. Technology can be a buzz-kill.”

  “Exactly. Face to face conversations over drinks and good food – those, I appreciate.”

  “I’m just curious, though, why are we here? How come Jen and Melanie aren’t joining us?”

  He smiles. “See, Livie, right there, that’s why I chose to go out with you tonight. You have this generosity of spirit that they don’t really have, especially the entitled Melanie. You never want to hurt anyone’s feelings. You’re very giving that way.” I look down, rather touched at his words.

  “Don’t be hard on them. Jen is a worry-wart. And Melanie is just hard on the outside. That’s just her packaging, so to speak.”

  “True. But you’re the easiest one to talk to, unless, of course, you’re torturing yourself about some imagined wrongdoing,” he looks at me, challenging me to disagree. I say nothing.

  “Oh, Mark.”

  “I think I’m in love.” He says it with a smile, but his
face is utterly serious.

  “No! Who? A lovely senorita you met in Mexico?”

  “Yup. She’s not from there. She was vacationing with her family. She’s from New York.”

  “Details, please.”

  “Blonde, gorgeous long legs.” Mark’s weakness. “Eyes as blue as the ocean, an enhanced version of Gisele Bundchen,” he continues.

  “You have got to be kidding me. How can anyone be a better version of the top model in the world?”

  “She is,” he says nonchalantly. Mark is not prone to exaggeration, so when he says that, I know she must be truly out-of-this-world beautiful.

  “When do we meet her? Is she paying you a visit soon?”

  “Sadly, no. She’s an assistant editor for Lovely Magazine.” Of course she is. “She has a pretty demanding schedule and can’t take the time off. I’ll have to pay a visit to the East Coast.”

  I frown because I know how difficult a long-distance relationship can be. “You’re okay with that?”

  “Do I have a choice? When we get married, I’m sure she’ll be willing to move.” He’s already talking marriage? Though I feel that he’s moving at an alarmingly fast pace, I don’t say anything. He’s happy. Why ruin it?

  “Okay, you definitely have to tell the girls. This is big!” I advise him.

  “Of course I will. Now, enough about me. Tell me, are you gonna be okay going to work tomorrow?”

  “Yes. I’ve already told him I’m resigning, so all I have to do is get my personal stuff. It’s not even half a box,” I say with resignation.

  “Livie, have you not been listening to everything I’ve told you?” He looks like he wants to strangle me.

  “I’m not working for him. I can’t be professional, knowing how we’ve been… you know.”

  “Then go back to John. Tell him to reassign you. Are you crazy? You’ve been working for Gallo’s for, what, three years? Why commit career suicide?”

  “Because he pretty much told me that I need to stay put. He needs me for the transition phase and he won’t get anyone else,” my voice cracks.

  “That means he’s being professional. He doesn’t give a damn about what happened between you. That’s a good sign,” he says eagerly.

  “Mark, I can’t do it. I look at him and I remember what happened. I’m near him and sometimes I can’t breathe. It’s going to get in the way of my work! When he didn’t know it was me, I was just afraid and uneasy. Now that he does, I’m in a state of panic.”

  “You’re not thinking this through. How long is this transition phase? A month or two, tops. After that, he will have no reason to keep you as his assistant. The man heads the finances of one of the top one hundred corporations in the world. He has no time to pick another person and orient her on what he needs. Having you there is the lesser of two evils.”

  “Thanks,” I say drily.

  “Do you really think that he would let his personal thoughts or emotions interfere with his professional life? That’s ridiculous!” Well, when he puts it that way, I guess, he does have a point.

  “He did say that I won’t be getting a reference if I leave him in a lurch.”

  “And I agree. That man can make your life a living hell if he wants to.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that I should suck it up and pretend that everything is normal?”

  “Listen to my words of wisdom, Livie,” he says with a disarming smile.

  “I’ll sleep on it,” I say grudgingly.

  “In the meantime, let’s order. I’m starving.”

  ***

  It’s casual Friday, but I decide to dress with extra care. I have to face him with confidence. I put on a black pencil skirt and a long-sleeved cotton white shirt with a lace bodice. My curly brown hair is neatly pinned in a low chignon. I have decided to use contact lenses and put on more make-up than usual of late. I apply two coats of mascara and light brown shadow to accentuate my brown eyes in a low-key way. A touch of blush on the cheeks and a dab of pale red gloss on my lips. I’ve long resigned myself to the knowledge that I’m not beautiful. I’m plain as vanilla, but with the right make-up, I can look presentable.

  I choose a pair of high-heeled black pumps which I seldom wear. Most of my shoes are for work and, somehow, I’ve managed to buy a number of them in black. I try not to wobble in the shoes. I need the extra height so I don’t feel disadvantaged when I’m standing close to him.

  I make my way to my trusty old Nissan, get in, and start the car. As usual, I get on the 101 and wait for the grinding pace to begin. Typical rush hour with bumper-to-bumper traffic, and drivers impatient to reach their destinations. Why did I have to take so long with my make-up? I turn on the radio, but can’t find a station that has music to calm my nerves. Everything is a cacophony of rap and pop, so I turn it off.

  I do a mental rehearsal of what I should say. Should it be ‘good morning’ first, or just skip that and immediately go into my decision? Ughhh! Never mind. I’ll just blurt out the first thing on my mind. No, I really can’t do this anymore.

  Mercifully, I find myself at the exit not too long after I put a stop to my inner struggles. Two blocks from the exit I make a right and then enter the parking lot building. I grab my purse and walk steadily to the entrance of the tower. I wave to Robert, the concierge. Is he ever off? I absent-mindedly wonder. He’s here like 365 days in a year.

  The elevator is full of people who have made it just in time. I smile at one or two familiar faces. Finally, the doors open to the penthouse. This time, I walk slowly. I am fighting against my instinct to turn around and take an elevator down instead. But my legs do miraculously bring me to his office, and I go in after taking a deep breath.

  “Good morning, Tony. I have decided to stay,” I say abruptly and with no explanation. “However, I ask that you let me go back to John as soon as you are able to choose your permanent assistant.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of keeping you longer than necessary,” he says with an amused drawl. Wow! He manages to make me feel ridiculous for asking. “Did he convince you to stay?”

  I can only assume that he’s referring to Mark, so I answer truthfully, “Yes, he did, actually.” I look straight at him, daring him to say more. He gazes speculatively at me, his mouth pursed tightly.

  Because he says nothing, I go to my desk, but he follows me. What does he want now?

  “Your revised report?” he asks.

  My what? And then I understand what he’s asking for. I quickly go through the documents on my desk and retrieve the report. I give it to him without comment.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I respond coolly. He goes back to his office and I thankfully sit down to stop the shaking of my limbs. Be calm, Livie. It’s over. You have nothing to worry about. Really, nothing to worry about? If only that were true.

  On an impulse, I call John. He answers on the third ring. “Yellow.” I smile at his familiar greeting.

  “Hi, John. I miss you. Come rescue me,” I say half-jokingly.

  “Who are you kidding? You’ve got the big desk and upgraded hardware. Why would you want to go back?” He laughs at his own joke.

  “Does Ana want to trade you in, too?” I lobby back.

  “Never. We’re a perfect match, kiddo.”

  They really are and, for a moment, I let out a wistful sigh of envy.

  “It’s TGIF, why do you sound like you’re moping around? Is Tony making you work overtime every night? Do you want me to give him a piece of my mind?” I laugh at the image of easygoing John giving the aristocratic Tony a dressing down.

  “No, I’m okay. Just wanted to say hi.”

  “Don’t forget about the regular people on this side of the floor,” he says.

  “That would be impossible.” As I put down the phone, I feel a little lighter. I daydream a little about being back at my old desk and never… okay, rarely… dealing with Antonio Oliveira Avery again.

  ***

  At six o’clock,
I want to call it a day but, as I start to gather my belongings, Tony comes out and says, “Please don’t leave. I just got a call from Tio Maximo and he’s not happy with the performance of three of our shops in London. He wants us to examine the ratios. Can you please call one of the nearby restaurants to deliver dinner? A sandwich for me and whatever you want.”

  Does he think I have no life or does he just not care? He just assumes I’ll drop everything at his command. So inconsiderate. Then I remind myself that this is only temporary. So, I ask him in a voice dripping with saccharine sweetness, “Is there a particular kind of sandwich you would like?” Corned beef on the rye? Roast beef with crème cheese? Tuna with arsenic?

  “I don’t really care,” he responds abruptly.

  Of course, you don’t. You don’t care about anything but your work. I get it. I roll my eyes and proceed to make a phone call to Lucille’s, three blocks away.

  A few seconds later, I hear the phone ringing and know it can only be him, so I go to his room with my notepad. “You rang?” I ask him.

  He just looks at me and points with his left hand to one of the visitor’s chairs, indicating that I should take a seat. For the first time, I wonder why he’s so driven. If those London shops are underperforming, he can always look at the numbers next Monday. He doesn’t have to do everything right away. It’s like he’s trying to find an excuse not to leave the workplace. Doesn’t he have anything to do outside the four walls of this office?

  I suddenly notice that he’s looking at me, as if waiting for an answer. What the hell did he ask? Focus, Olivia. I look back at him, waiting for him to repeat his words.

  “I asked you if you can come in tomorrow, as well. I want to be able to send an analysis report to my uncle by this weekend.” There goes my hang-out with the girls and, possibly, my lunch with Mom.

  So I ask what’s expected of me, “What time do you want me to come in?”

  “Not too early. Eight will be fine.” Not too early? What planet is this man from?

  “I’ll be here.”

  “In the meantime, email me the numbers I asked. I sent you an email while you were on the phone.” Of course you did. Can you be any more efficient? Stop it, Liv. Sarcasm doesn’t become me, but this guy is pushing all my buttons.